


Things My Brother Taught Me

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-15
Updated: 2006-06-15
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8697007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: First in the Things My Brother Taught Me series. Warnings: Wincest, implied violence, various kinks, strong language, moderately defused wit, waterlogged hell beasties, hot boys with stupid haircuts and straight people necking on television. Yeah. Scary. But, seriously - don't read this story if you are at all offended by incest between minors. It's canon that the boys are brothers, folks. Brothers are boys and boys get up to no good when left to their own devices. It's a fact of life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Things my Brother Taught Me

Title: Things My Brother Taught Me  
Author: Hellskitten  
Fandom: Supernatural  
Pairing: S/D  
Rating: NC-17 (this is not your Great Aunt Betty’s slash)  
Warnings: Wincest, implied violence, various kinks, strong language, moderately defused wit, waterlogged hell beasties, hot boys with stupid haircuts and straight people necking on television. Yeah. Scary. But, seriously—don’t read this story if you are at all offended by incest between minors. It’s canon that the boys are brothers, folks. Brothers are boys and boys get up to no good when left to their own devices. It’s a fact of life. Don’t send me hate-mail over it.   
Spoilers: Some for the episode “Dead in the Water”, but this is mostly AU.  
Disclaimer: The boys belong to the WB. If they were mine, they’d be on cable so they could kill hell beasties naked. If they felt like it. And if they were mine, they’d feel like it a lot.  
  
*******  
  
Every ripple in the silver-black water of Lake Manitoc played tricks on Sam’s eyes. He kept seeing that dead boy with his putrid skin and hellish gaze . . . the way his scrawny, rotting arm reached up for Lukas and yanked him down. Sam was always amazed by the strength and fortitude of evil beings. Hate was a vicious fuel.  
  
He wanted to come down to the water once more before they left town. Even though the hunt was over and the threat was gone, something in that lake still called to him. Maybe it was just residual, some left over vapor of beckoning that wasn’t really there at all. Sam didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted—needed—to be there, standing on that dock as near to the water as he could without getting his clothes wet again.   
  
He took deep breaths of the cool, moist air until he could taste the lake in his mouth. It was a vital, unpolluted flavor that made him feel a wave of pride for what he and Dean had accomplished there. It had been a bitter negotiation with an unimaginable price, but they’d got Andrea’s son back from the jaws of death. He’d been surprised by the effect of that rescue in Dean. Something about Andrea really touched him. In one way that was good—it showed he was still marginally open emotionally. But in another way, it was bad. Emotions were frivolous for the Brothers Winchester. They weren’t like other people.  
  
Sam heard the footfalls on the dock and instantly recognized their cadence. Dean stopped right behind him, close enough to brush Sam’s jacket with his own.   
  
“Find what you were looking for?”  
  
Casting his eyes out across the inky, uneasy water, Sam shook his head once. “Guess there’s nothing there.”  
  
“Oh, well,” Dean said. “Let’s do as we’re told and put this town in our rearview.” He turned and headed back down the dock and Sam turned to follow him. The Impala sat idling on the road above the shore and they both climbed into their respective seats silently.  
  
Glancing over at his younger brother, Dean squinted but didn’t say anything. He just put the car in gear and pulled out onto the highway.  
  
***  
  
Dean kept stretching while he drove but the muscles in his neck and shoulders just wouldn’t relax. They’d put Lake Manitoc 200 miles behind them by then, but he still wanted to be further away. That place got under Dean’s skin.  
Sam sat beside him staring out the window, like he did. His long fingers tapped on his thighs to the beat of an old Nirvana song, but he probably wasn’t aware of that. Dean stole quick peeks at him several times before Sam felt the gaze and turned to him.  
  
“What?”  
“Nothing.”  
  
“You’re staring at me.”  
  
“You’re paranoid.” Dean glared forward at the road. He tried to stretch his neck again and then he heard Sam chuckling. He shot his glare back over to the passenger seat. “What the hell’s funny?”  
  
“You blushed.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“When Andrea kissed you,” Sam said. “You totally blushed.”  
  
“Freak. I did not.”  
  
Sam laughed teasingly. “You so did! I was standing right there, dude. I saw you. What’s the matter, Dean—you never been kissed by a girl before?”  
  
“Fuck you, man, she surprised me is all! It’s not like I saw that coming.”  
Sam shook his head. “Are you kidding me? She wanted to kiss you from the first second she laid eyes on you. She was just waiting for an opening. If you had been the one to pull her out of that tub, things might’ve gone NC-17 right there on the bathmat.”  
  
Dean’s turn to laugh, but at himself. “Yeah, right! She was clearly all over me when she was baggin’ on me for having a shit pick-up line.”  
  
They were both laughing then but Dean’s was brittle and self-deprecating and Sam’s was playful, affectionate.  
  
“Whatever,” Sam said. “I could tell she was into you. And there you were, goin’ all ‘aw, shucks, ma’am’ on her. Thought you were gonna kick the dirt there at one point.”  
  
“Yeah, all right, laugh it up,” Dean muttered. “Enjoy yourself. Jerk.”  
  
Sam reached across the Chevy’s front seat and pressed the flat of his fist into his brother’s arm. “Don’t get all mad,” he said softly. “I’m just kidding.”  
  
Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, but he silently accepted the apology nonetheless.  
  
“Besides,” Sam went on. “I know you’ve kissed girls. Lots of ‘em. You even taught me how to kiss, remember?”  
  
Dean nodded. He remembered, all right. In fact, that memory was one of his favorite masturbation fantasies.   
  
“You didn’t need too much instruction as I recall. Even for a twelve-year-old.”  
  
Sam leaned back in the seat, grinning. “That’s ‘cause I’d seen it on TV so many times. I remember watching people kiss on all those cop shows Dad used to like.”  
  
“’Miami Vice’,” Dean said reverently. “They sucked some serious face on that show.”  
  
They looked at each other and chuckled.  
  
“’Wiseguy’ was another one,” Sam said. “That dude in the lead role—damn he got all the babes. That show was like Make-Out 101. What was that guy’s name again?”  
  
Dean wasn’t really listening. His mind had traveled all the way back to that night over a decade ago when his little brother had crawled into his bed and asked for a lesson on how to “french”. There was a little girl in his 7th grade class that was giving him the eye and he thought he should be prepared—just in case. Dean hadn’t known what to do at first—mostly because at that point, the physical aspect of his and Sam’s relationship had only just begun. The most they’d done was give each other very selective baths, which had been incredibly enjoyable. Dean remembered feeling apprehensive about taking things further, but he’d also felt exhilarated by the taboo of it all.  
  
Rekindling their sensual relationship had been heavy on his mind the last few days. He and Sam had been on the road together again for weeks, but they’d kept to their separate beds for the most part. There had been a few nights when Dean had snuggled up to comfort Sam when he woke up crying over Jess’ death, but otherwise they’d been a model of brotherly chastity. Dean didn’t want to push him since he was grieving and all. He knew that in enough time, Sammy would sneak over to his bed just like when they were kids.   
  
“Hellooo,” Sam said, bringing him back to the present.  
  
“What?”  
  
“That dude on ‘Wiseguy’. What was his name?”  
  
“Uh . . . Wahl. Ken Wahl.”   
  
“That’s it. That was buggin’ me.” Sam looked at him for a long moment and then he smirked. “What were you just thinking about?”  
  
Dean felt his blood rush through is body suddenly, coloring his cheeks and warming his belly way down deep. He didn’t answer right away, but he grinned and Sam nudged him.  
  
“How’s that canary taste, Cheshire?”  
  
“I was just thinkin’,” Dean said and his grin did indeed spread to Cheshire proportions. “About that time.”  
  
“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”  
  
“That time you asked me to teach you to French kiss.”  
  
Sam nodded, matching his brother’s grin. “Right. THAT time.” He looked out the window for a moment, apparently remembering the events just as clearly as Dean did. “That was fun,” he said quietly.  
  
“Yeah.” Dean couldn’t stop grinning—in fact, the grin seemed to be gathering strength the longer he sat there. In a moment he was laughing and so was Sam.  
  
“We sure made a mess,” Sam recalled. “Remember how you snuck the sheets out and put them through the wash before Dad woke up the next morning?”  
  
Dean shook his head. “I was so freaked about him finding out. I thought he’d kill me . . . for touching you like that. Corrupting my ‘innocent kid brother’.”  
  
Sam chortled. “Right. Little did he know, it was my idea.”  
  
“He found that out soon enough,” Dean said and his grin melted away. Thinking about their father and about those more touching moments from their childhood had suddenly made him incredibly sad. He shook his head to clear it, then focused on the road again.   
  
“I still remember that talk we had about it,” Sam said. His tone had also gone melancholy. “He was so calm. So completely the opposite of how he usually was.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean could picture the moment so vividly in his mind, it was almost distracting him from driving. He could see their father leaning forward across that diner table in yet another of those endless small towns. The formica was white and crackling and the vinyl booths were the color of motor oil. Dean even remembered the smell of bacon frying in the air.  
  
***  
  
That morning the boys had been woken up by their dad’s weight as he sat on the edge of the bed they were sleeping in. Usually, when he brought them on a hunt and they got a hotel room with only two beds, Sam would bunk in with Dad. He was smaller at the time, it made more sense. He had done that the night before but sometime around 3:00 a.m., he’d crawled over into Dean’s bed. The boys had been quiet as mice and they had both heard their father snoring in a deep sleep, so they weren’t worried about being caught. But they’d made the mistake of falling asleep together—with both their pajama bottoms in a pile on the floor.   
  
John had let them wake up gently, just sitting there giving them a reassuring smile until they were sitting up and clear headed. Dean remembered being gripped with terror the instant he realized he and Sammy were both naked from the waist down. He’d reflexively pulled the covers over them and looked up at their dad with his moss-green eyes wide with guilt. John had just smiled back at him.   
  
“It’s okay, Dean,” he’d said, so serenely, so uncharacteristically. “I just want to have a little talk with you boys. No one’s in trouble here.” He’d put his large, warm hand on his eldest son’s cheek and cupped it affectionately, but Dean’s heart had been hammering to beat the band. He didn’t know if he could trust the sweet demeanor John was showing. It was new territory.  
  
“Don’t be mad at Dean,” Sam had suddenly said, leaning toward their father in earnest. “It wasn’t his idea. I swear. It was me.”  
  
Dean remembered being shocked speechless that his baby brother had just said that—had just done that. Dean had always been the one who protected Sam—not the other way around. He hadn’t been sure how he felt about it at the moment, but he didn’t have much time to consider it then. John had turned to his youngest with an expression that sat astride bewilderment and anxiety. That unusually gentle smile still hovered, though.  
  
“Sam, I told you—no one’s in trouble. I’m not mad at either of you. I’m just concerned . . . that . . . I just want to make sure you understand what’s happening.”  
  
The boys had darted a glance at each other and in that split second communication, it was clear they had no idea what their dad was talking about. John must have seen that, too, because he gave them both a good-natured pat on the leg and stood up from the bed.  
  
“Come on,” he’d said. “Let’s go get breakfast. We’ll talk over some pancakes.”  
  
***  
  
“I was sure he was gonna kill me,” Dean said, staring out at the road again. “And then you piped up saying it was all your idea.” He shook his head. “I could NOT believe you did that.”  
  
“Well, it was my idea,” Sam said. “Why should you get busted for something you didn’t even do?”  
  
Dean offered a wry smirk. “Because that’s what brothers are for, Sammy. Passin’ the buck.”  
  
“Whatever, dude. You never passed any bucks to me and you know it.”  
  
“Then I’m overdue. I’ll think of something to blame on you before night fall.” Dean glanced at his watch and frowned slightly, wishing it was later. The muscles in his neck kept getting tighter and tighter and he could tell he had a headache brewing. He needed to get out of that car. “I’m gonna stop.”  
  
Sam looked at him. “It’s still daylight.”  
  
“I know, but my neck’s buggin’ the shit outta me. I need to get flat for a while.”  
  
“I can drive. Stretch out in back.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “Nah. I want to stop.”  
  
The younger Winchester turned back to the scenery out the passenger window. Facing away like that, he knew Dean wouldn’t be able to see the smile tugging his lips. Yeah, Sam thought to himself . . . now would be a great time to stop.  
  
***  
  
By the time they were settled into their room at a one-story dive called The Blue Angel Motor Lodge, the sun had slipped below the horizon. Dean dug through his bag until he found a bottle of aspirin and he took three, washing the tablets down with a cold beer.   
  
Sam was sprawled on one of the two king size beds reading a local newspaper. The six pack of Bud Light was on the table beside him, but he hadn’t opened one for himself yet. Dean laid down on the other bed, fluffed the pillows under his head and sighed. Being out of the car was a big help, but his neck and shoulders still felt like they were made of rusty wire. He reached back and rubbed his fingers over the sorest part of his neck, wincing in discomfort. He felt Sam watching him, but he didn’t look over. Turning his head seemed like too much trouble just then.  
  
Sam put the paper aside and stood up, taking his denim jacket off and tossing it on his bed. He walked around Dean’s bed to the other side of it, crawling onto the mattress and lying down next to his brother. Dean frowned, a bit irritably.  
  
“What’re you doin’? I need to rest.”  
  
“Turn over,” Sam said, scooting toward Dean on the bed.   
  
“What the hell for?”  
  
“So I can rub your back, dumbass.” Sam leaned on his elbow and looked down at his brother, his brown hair falling over his eyes in inviting, uncombed tufts. He waited patiently until Dean finally decided to roll over, then he slipped his free hand up under the hem of his brother’s white t-shirt.  
  
His fingers were dry and silky and Dean was a little surprised by how warm Sam was. He could feel heat radiating from his kid brother, even through their clothes. The room was a little cold to him—or maybe it was just the muscle aches. At first, Sam just stroked the skin on his back gently, in an attempt to relax him. It worked pretty well. He sighed into the pillows under his head and closed his eyes gratefully.   
  
Sam shifted closer to him and then his long fingers began to kneed Dean’s aching shoulders. It felt divine and he couldn’t help but groan softly.   
“Good?” Sam murmured and Dean could feel the vibration of his brother’s resonant voice in the mattress.   
  
He moaned his reply.  
  
Sam worked the tight muscles all the way across Dean’s shoulders and upper back, occasionally sliding his hand up and down the spine very slowly. Dean was hard as a rock in no time, his body greedily responding to the sensual ministrations. He hadn’t had an orgasm in over 48 hours and he was feeling more than a little congested. He wriggled on the bed, pressing his cock into the mattress. Sam breathed a soft laugh and tickled Dean’s back with his fingernails.  
  
“Why don’t you get undressed,” he said, his voice quiet and grainy. “Make this easier for me.”   
  
Dean turned his head on the pillows and looked at his brother closely. “Are you sure you want to?”  
  
Sam just looked at him but did not reply.  
  
“I mean, I don’t want to rush you . . . if you’re not, ya know, ready.”  
  
“I’m fine,” his brother said. “Besides . . . I . . . kinda miss you. It’s like torturing me being this close to you all the time and not touching you.”  
  
Dean tried to hide the fact that he was doing a dance inside. He smiled softly, playing it cool. “Okay, then. If that’s what you want.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, clearly not buying the act. “Whatever, man. Get naked.”  
  
Dean offered an impish grin. “I will if you will.”  
  
Sam grinned back. “Deal.” He sat up and pulled his long sleeved t-shirt over his head, further disheveling his chestnut mop. Dean noticed the fine peach fuzz blond hairs on Sam’s neck and thought how tender and vulnerable it looked. How boyish. He got up on his knees and took his shirt off, as well, and they both tossed the garments overboard onto the floor where they landed in a pile together.   
  
“We’d better watch out,” Sam said playfully, eyeing the shirts. “That’s how we got caught before.”  
  
“Once,” Dean said and they both chuckled. “Once was all it took and then we got smart.” He tugged the bedspread back and turned the covers down before he wriggled out of his jeans. When he was down to his briefs, he got under the blankets and held them open for Sam.   
  
“Are you cold?” Sam asked as he kicked off his khakis and slipped between the sheets, also in his underwear.   
  
“A little bit.” Dean rolled onto his belly again and fluffed the pillows under his head until he was comfortable. “Rub me up good, little brother.”  
Sam breathed a laugh and scooted close under the covers. His long limbs practically burned with heat and Dean drew instinctively toward him. When Sam’s fingers touched his neck again, he shivered all the way down to his nipples. Dean licked his lips.  
  
For a long time, Sam worked on his brother’s back quietly, manipulating the muscles under the flesh with firm, concentrated pressure. Dean moaned his appreciation every time Sam touched a particularly sensitive spot. He could feel his brother’s hot, smooth skin under the blankets, pressed against his own on the left side. With his eyes closed, Dean’s other senses heightened and he found himself breathing in deeply just to get more of Sam’s scent in his nose and mouth. His cock throbbed painfully with his heartbeat and once again he wiggled his hips for friction against the mattress.   
  
Under the blankets, Sam closed the tiny distance between them. Dean took in a quick breath when he felt his brother’s erection burn against his thigh, even through his shorts. Sam continued to massage his shoulders with those long, agile fingers and then he surprised Dean with a few delicate kisses on the back of his neck. The touch of those hot lips was so slight and gentle, he almost couldn’t feel it. It was more like he sensed the kisses. The tiny wet sounds Sam’s lips made against his skin got Dean’s blood rushing like crazy. His heartbeat picked up and then he felt Sam’s burning hot tongue slide over his earlobe.   
  
That was it.  
  
Dean turned under the covers until his lips connected with Sam’s and he could have sworn he saw sparks. God, he’d been dying for this. They didn’t even kiss at first, they just licked each other’s tongues and touched and groped beneath the sheets. Hands and fingers seemed to be everywhere at once. Sam climbed on top and straddled Dean’s hips, stretching his long torso forward so their eager cocks pressed together between their bellies. His tongue made slow circles around the tip of Dean’s tongue, stroking it, teasing it, caressing it in the most torturous way.   
  
Letting out a shaky, frustrated breath, Dean sucked at his brother’s hot, pouting bottom lip. “Fuck, this feels so good . . .” he breathed into Sam’s mouth and went for his tongue again.   
  
“Just like the first time . . .” Sam breathed back, sliding his nose across his brother’s and inhaling deeply. “Except now you taste like beer.”  
  
“You taste like honey,” Dean said, meaning it. “Just like the first time.”  
  
Sam’s wet mouth was in fact the sweetest, most delicious thing he’d tasted in weeks. So familiar yet so strangely new. He wrapped his fingers around Sam’s narrow hips and held on, driving his tongue into his brother’s mouth roughly. His cock kicked and leaked in anticipation and he groaned, tingling all over. Sam’s cock throbbed against his own, shuddering and tensing in response to every sweep of Dean’s tongue inside his mouth. He felt his younger brother trembling and drawing quick breaths and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before Sam started moaning through an orgasm. The kid always went off really quick at first. Dean didn’t think he’d be far behind, either. All that waiting had been driving him insane. He felt starved and full at the same time, desperately craving release. Apparently, his kid brother felt exactly the same.  
  
Shifting his weight to his left hand, Sam reached down between their bodies with his right. He shoved aside the fabric of his briefs and Dean felt his brother’s pulsing cock slap against his own belly, just above the waistband of his shorts. The head was wet and slick and Sam pressed his cock into Dean’s flesh right below the navel. He panted and whimpered a little, then he closed his mouth over Dean’s and started up that tongue battle again. As soon as Dean sucked on his brother’s probing tongue, Sam’s cock erupted, shooting hot, creamy fluid in thick ropes all over Dean’s abs and chest. The scent of that clean, musky semen hit Dean’s nose and then he was coming, too, lifting his cock up into Sam’s hot belly and rubbing for purchase. Dean’s entire body vibrated with pleasure and reprieve.  
  
They rocked together as their breathing slowed, both bodies burning and damp with sweat. Sam touched his forehead to Dean’s and rested it there. Dean’s fingers still gripped his brother’s lean hips and he lifted his chin to put a hard kiss on Sam’s feverish brow. Their expended seed had already begun to cool on their skin and Sam rolled onto his back under the covers. He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his discarded t-shirt. Folding the covers back, he wiped Dean’s torso clean and then wiped off his own. Before tossing the shirt back on the floor, Sam brought it to his nose and sniffed it. Dean grinned.   
  
“Just like the first time,” he said. “Remember? I cleaned you up with my pajama top and you wanted to smell it.”  
  
“I love the way you smell,” Sam said, tossing the shirt on the floor. “That’s been killing me more than anything.” He slipped back down under the covers and inched forward until their bodies were touching everywhere possible. The cotton of his briefs was damp against his older brother’s thigh. Something about that reminded Dean further of their first exploration into ‘french’ kissing and he felt his balls tingle again. Cupping them with his hand, he rubbed them very gently while he let that new layer of memory play out in his mind.  
  
Sam nudged his ear with his nose and let out a puff of hot breath on the sensitive skin there. “Let me do that,” he said and those long, deft fingers tickled down Dean’s belly. He took hold of Dean’s cock and tugged it just a little, just like he knew his brother liked after he came. Some things you never forget. He was still too sensitive for much stimulation, but a little went a long way toward prolonging the initial pleasure. Dean sighed and closed his eyes, turning his face toward Sam’s and finding his brother’s lips again.   
  
“Easy, Sammy . . .” he whispered. “Not too hard.” They kissed languidly, wetly, lips sliding over each other in slow, hot brushes. Dean felt his nipples tighten and he moaned, his fingers finding the kitteny, little boy hairs at the back of Sam’s neck.   
  
“Can I lick?” Sam murmured into the kiss. “I’ll be gentle. I just . . . really . . . need to taste you, Dean.”   
  
Before Dean could answer, Sam started licking his way down his brother’s neck. He shifted under the covers until he was crouching over Dean, nuzzling and licking his chest and nipples. Dean loved having his nipples sucked. Drove him straight up the wall. Of course, Sam knew this and took great pains to deliciously torture each little nub of sensitive flesh. It was too soon for him to get hard again, but his body tingled all over just the same. He stroked Sam’s hair and sighed with pleasure again and again.   
  
“I’m feeling very oral tonight,” Sam murmured, smiling up the long plain of Dean’s torso.  
  
“Rock on with your bad oral self, Sammy. I’m lovin’ it.” He closed his eyes as he felt Sam’s teeth close on the flesh of his lower belly, taking small, hungry bites that hurt in a good way. Dean shivered. As many times as he’d had his cock sucked in his life, no one ever did it as well as his brother. Sam just had a way, a level of hunger and insistence that was completely irresistible. Sam loved sucking as much as Dean loved being sucked. It was all very simpatico. And Dean had missed it so badly it had felt like slowly dying of thirst.  
  
As that warm, wanton mouth slid down over Dean’s sensitive cock, he moaned from deep in his chest. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he suddenly saw the scene of the first time Sam did this to him. The first time they’d crossed the line between those slippery boy kisses and fumbling, selective baths to full blown sexual contact. He remembered how Sam had trembled, how nervous they had both been—and how painfully, achingly aroused. Dean had never known longing like that before. To that day, he only felt that level of intensity with Sam.  
  
Sam’s nose nudged against his navel as his tongue danced around the head of Dean’s cock, coaxing it, urging it to swell to its full length again. Those lips felt like satin that had been left in the mid-day sun. Sam’s long fingers stroked and tickled Dean’s thighs, alerting the nerve endings to the coming attractions. His long legs went off the end of the bed so he could support himself on his knees, and he pulled Dean down a few feet on the mattress. This position gave him easier access and was more comfortable for long sessions. They’d learned this from many hours of practice once the boys discovered how much pleasure they could give each other.  
  
Pushing the blankets aside, Dean lifted up onto his elbows so he could watch. Sam was always good for the graphic visuals. He sucked Dean off like a porn star when he really put his mind to it, and it seemed like his mind was very much to it that night. Their eyes met once again, sparkling with playful lust. Dean smiled.  
  
In a confessional whisper, he said, “I’ve been dying for this.”  
  
“Me, too.” Sam opened his slightly swollen lips over Dean’s half-hard cock. He licked the head, teased the slit with his tongue and then wet his lips so he could slide them down the entire length of the shaft. That was all it took—Dean was fully erect by the time Sam’s lips reached his balls.  
  
He muttered something that might have been words but he had nothing intelligent to say. All his senses had become polarized to his loins and all he could feel was everything Sam was doing to him. The sensations assaulted him in sharp detail. That tongue slickering over the tense, satiny skin of his shaft, pressing in on the throbbing veins, circling and tickling the glands at the engorged tip. As if that wasn’t enough, Sam’s fingers had gained a mind of their own and were stealthily exploring the tender curves of Dean’s ass cheeks. He could feel the pads of his brother’s thumbs rubbing into his flesh just below his balls and that contact sent a shock of pleasure through him, making him cry out suddenly. Sam glanced up to make sure everything was okay, and then he went back to his task.  
  
“Watch the digits, Sammy,” he warned, feeling those naughty fingers graze his anus. Again, they looked at each other and Sam grinned with his eyes. He slid his mouth up Dean’s cock and released it just long enough to speak.  
  
“You’ve gotta get over that, dude. You don’t know what you’re missing.”  
  
Dean laughed and shook his head. “What the fuck are they teaching you in college, young man? Here I thought Stanford was a respectable institution.”  
  
“Stanford has fuck all to do with what I’ve learned about sucking your dick. Now shut up and let me work.” He smiled with his pretty dark green eyes and then his mouth was full again.  
  
Dean groaned, feeling lightheaded with ecstasy. Vaguely, he did wonder if Sam had been with any other guys since he’d been away. They hadn’t talked about it at all. Truth was, they hadn’t talked about much of anything since Sam came back. Mostly, they just kept driving. All that silence in the car had given them both too much time to imagine things, to dream about things and to conjure their respective demons. Dean could sense Sam’s demons hovering just beneath the surface of his skin. It made him hotter, harder and more volatile than he’d ever been as a kid. It made him a little mysterious and a little dangerous.  
  
But at that moment, there was nothing between them but the bliss and mental block-out of sexual pleasure. Just like when they were kids.  
  
Having just come a few minutes before, Dean knew he’d be able to last a while the second time. This was good for both of them. Sam needed this just as much as he did—maybe more. This was their way of bonding, of communicating their feelings for each other. This was how the Brothers Winchester got things done. This secret place of total connection was like a fort to them—shelter and a place to hide when being on their particular road got to be too much. Dean sighed at that thought, lying back down on the mattress so he could enjoy himself.   
  
He was so damned happy to have Sam home again.   
  
***   
  
Sam’s eyes were closed so everything was dark around him and in the darkness, there was nothing but Dean. That heavy, throbbing cock in his mouth that tasted of everything good—salt, sunshine, musk, sweet butter—all the things that made him happy and feel safe. He took his brother’s ample erection into his mouth as far as he could, stretching his neck to allow more space. He wanted his nose to touch Dean’s soft dark blond pubic hair. That hair made the skin under it extra warm and raised the aroma of Dean’s essence exponentially. That scent made Sam salivate. His body twitched and hummed and he breathed in and out very deeply, saturating himself with that scent.   
Dean’s cock was so full and hard, burning with hot blood. Sam sucked at it with all his might, wishing he could taste it forever, stay in that warm, dark, erotic place forever.   
  
He loved Dean’s cock. It was perfect. Even when he was just a kid, his cock had always been admirable. It was thick and heavy, easily eight inches hard and it had the most perfect mushroom-shaped head. It had fit perfectly in Sam’s mouth since he was twelve years old.  
  
Using his fingernails, Sam lightly scratched the thatch of golden hairs that decorated the base of his brother’s cock. He felt Dean shiver and clutch Sam’s hair at the nape of his neck. And then there was fresh pre-come hitting the roof of his mouth, hot and salty, like popcorn at the movies. He knew that was a signal to either back off a bit and make it last or step up the pace and get it done. Sam decided he wanted to make it last a little—but more for his own pleasure than for Dean’s.  
  
He let that pulsing cock slide out of his mouth, then came back and licked it with his tongue flat and soft, gently massaging the anxious skin with saliva. His fist kept a firm but gentle hold on the shaft, bouncing the head softly against his lips. This made Dean moan very loud and Sam smiled at his accomplishment. He felt a tickle in his belly like when you drop suddenly on a rollercoaster. He heard his brother mumbling, trying to say something or give instructions, but he didn’t care. The moaning was the point. That supplicating sound told Sam he was in complete control.  
  
“Sammy . . .” Dean breathed, his belly going taut and his grip tightening on Sam’s hair. “Oh, fuck . . . make me come . . . please. Don’t tease me.”  
  
Sam kissed that leaking, shuddering cockhead and grinned puckishly at his brother. “But I want to. It’s fun.”  
  
Dean forced himself to sit up, his chest heaving with tense breath. He took Sam’s chin in his hand and drew him close for a kiss, driving his tongue straight in like a battering ram.   
  
For a moment, Sam couldn’t breathe. He felt frozen by this sudden contact, impaled on Dean’s tongue and unable to move. He just sat there and let himself be kissed in this deep, rough, urgent way that seemed to be frying all his brain cells at once. That kiss was so forceful, so impatient and yet so . . . imploring. That kiss was the core and spirit of Dean—and Sam had it all right in his grasp.  
  
When his older brother broke their connection, he kept hold of Sam’s chin and looked right in his eyes. Dean’s pupils were huge black marbles rimmed with a corona of olive green and his handsome face was infused with gorgeous blush. He panted and his breath was hot on Sam’s cheeks.   
  
“Sammy, I’m not playing. You do it or I will.”  
  
Sam’s heart pounded as he sat there awash in Dean’s innate, ever-present intensity. He looked at his brother’s face, really took it in—and then he gave Dean a soft, sweet kiss on the lips.   
  
“Just sit back,” he said quietly. “Let me drive. I’ll get us there.”  
  
Dean frowned slightly and seemed to consider what he’d just heard very carefully. Then he let go of Sam’s face and settled back on the mattress again. They stared at each other. Sam’s heart was banging away so hard in his chest, he wondered if Dean could hear it. Hell, he wondered if the motel’s other guests could hear it. Why he was so exhilarated was anyone’s guess. All he knew was that it felt amazing. It felt like flying.   
  
It felt like being alive.  
  
With that, he licked his lips and took that quivering cock into his mouth again. Dean trembled and gripped the sheet that covered the mattress with his fingers. Sam could even see his toes curling on the bland motel carpet. A few purposeful, hard sucks and Sam’s mouth was flooded with milky, wet heat. He shivered and swallowed again and again, savoring that sharp, earthy flavor he’d been missing for so long. Dean tasted like tall grass and summer nights, like vanilla milkshakes and pancakes. He tasted like passion and like fear. He tasted brand new and a million years old.  
  
Sam heard himself moaning and the sound surprised him. It was so full of surrender that it almost sounded like begging. Was he begging? What for? He didn’t have a clue. But before he could analyze that thought any further, Dean’s hands were on his head gently lifting him up and away from that delicious, spent cock. That time Sam didn’t just moan, he whined.  
  
Dean sat up and drew his brother into another deep, hard kiss. Sam held onto him, feeling a bit dizzy and unstable. His body blazed with desire. Dean’s fingers found his stiff, dripping cock and held it, stroked it firmly until he was coming again, shouting into his brother’s mouth as the spasms tore through him. He felt that orgasm everywhere—even in his eyelashes and on the backs of his knees. He imagined he had sparks coming off him as though he were radioactive. Anything that touched him in that moment would surely be burned to a cinder.  
  
Anything, that was, except Dean. Dean was safe with him. Dean was protected.  
  
When he felt a slight twinge in his balls, he knew he was empty. He reached for Dean’s hand and moved it away, lacing their fingers together while they kissed each other. Sam did this unconsciously, almost as a reflex to having Dean’s hand so near his own, but Dean drew back from the touch. He put both hands on Sam’s head again and stroked his hair while they finished kissing, winding down from the pleasure and the weird turn their emotions took.  
  
Finally, Dean flopped back on the bed and lay there catching his breath. Sam crawled up beside him and stretched out, reaching up for one of the pillows to put under his head. For a long time, they just laid there in the quiet room, breathing. And then Dean cleared his throat.  
  
Still staring at the ceiling, he spoke in a soft voice. “It’s good to have you back, Sammy. I missed you.”  
  
Sam watched his brother’s face for a long time before replying. Dean seemed to be thinking about what he’d just said, wondering if maybe he should have kept those emotions to himself. His lips twitched and he frowned a little, then he turned and looked at Sam directly.  
  
“Are you staying?” he said.  
  
Sam blinked. “Got nowhere else to go.”  
  
“A: that’s not true; and B: it’s not the point.” Dean waited almost defiantly, as though he expected Sam to challenge him.  
  
But Sam only sighed. “Yes, I’m staying. At least until we find Dad. I mean . . . we don’t even know if he’s gonna . . . want me to stick around.”  
  
Dean looked away and his frown deepened. “He loves you, little brother. He’s just got a jacked up way of showing it.”  
  
“There’s the understatement of the year.” Sam sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. It was damp from sweat and tangled from not being combed all day. His body was exhausted but in the best possible way. He felt sated for the first time in months. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”  
  
Reaching up to the nightstand, Dean grabbed his beer and drained half the bottle. He belched loudly and they both laughed, like the children they once were. Sam nodded toward the six pack and Dean pulled out a bottle, twisting off the cap before he handed it over. They touched the brown longnecks together and then they drank.  
  
“When we do find him,” Sam said. “We can’t tell him about . . . this. If he finds out we’re doing this again . . . now, when we’re supposed to have grown out of it years ago, he’ll shoot me in the head.” He looked at Dean with his eyebrows raised for emphasis. “With real bullets.”  
  
Dean scowled. “What, you think he’s gonna assume you forced me?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You gotta be kiddin’ me, man! I could so kick your ass! There’s no WAY you could force yourself on me. He’s not an idiot, Sam. The man’s got eyes.”  
  
Ignoring the rant, Sam tipped his beer bottle to his lips and drank deeply. “I just mean that . . . he would think I influenced you. Somehow, some way, he’d make it my fault. And he’d take it out on me with something deadly. So,” he turned to his brother again. “When we find him, let’s just be very careful. Okay? What he doesn’t know won’t get me killed.”  
  
“He’s your father,” Dean said under his breath. “He’d never hurt you.”  
  
Sam looked at his brother again, this time in utter disbelief. “Excuse me? Have we met?” He stuck out his hand roughly. “I’m Sam Winchester, the bane of my father’s existence. I’m the black sheep in a herd of psychotic rams. I’m the one who wanted to be normal and that made me the FREAK in my family!”  
  
“You done?” Dean said.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and finished his beer. Dean opened them each another.  
“I’m not gonna argue the freak part, but you’ve got Dad all wrong, man. He loves you and he wanted you with us. He was hurt that you left, not angry. He wanted you to WANT to be with us.”  
  
Sam turned the fresh beer around and around in his hands, staring into the bottle. “Which one are you?” he said. “Hurt or angry?”  
  
Dean leaned back against the headboard and let out a long, deep sigh. “I . . . guess I’m neither. I mean, you’re back, so . . . it’s all good. And . . .”  
  
Sam looked at him, hearing the levity coming.  
  
Dean nudged his brother’s thigh with his bare toes. “You still give the greatest head on earth. So, what’s to be grumpy about?” He stuck out his index finger with a smirk. “Although you can shove that teasing shit someplace dark and stinky.”  
  
Sam laughed to himself, remembering how empowered he’d felt in that moment. He’d never felt that way before with Dean—or with anyone. That had been the first time in his life that he’d had real control and managed to not be terrified of it.  
  
“And quit tryin’ to stick your fingers up my ass,” Dean finished, tilting his beer to his full, curvy lips.  
  
Sam stood up grinning and walked around the side of the bed. Leaning over Dean, he softly slid his tongue into his brother’s mouth and kissed him for a long time. “Like I said,” he whispered against Dean’s cheek. “You need to get over that. You really are missing out on something great.” He straightened up and headed for the bathroom to take a shower.  
  
“What I’m wondering, Sammy-boy,” Dean said. “Is just exactly how do you KNOW that?”  
  
Sam turned in the bathroom doorway and grinned, but he had nothing to say.  
  
  
The end.


End file.
